I still had to rough her up a bit. Or I tried. She called me a wuss and did most of it herself.

“Tell me again,” Joplin said, “how you just happened to stumble upon my missing person?”

We’d gone over it a gazillion times, but smelling something off as well, he wanted to trip me up. To give him a reason to arrest me. Wasn’t gonna happen.

“I got a tip from a source that a lady was being held here against her will for her father’s gambling debts.”

Emery threw that last part in. She wanted to drive that nail home. And since Mr. Adams apparently had gambling debts at several locations, who was to say which bookie it was that abducted her?

“They wanted to freak out the father, so they threw her blood, along with someone else’s they’d stolen from a blood bank, all over her car. I got here, scoured the area, and finally heard a soft cry coming from inside this warehouse. I broke in and found her. It’s not rocket science, Joplin.”

“You just keep that shit up, Davidson, and—”

“Are you actually threatening my niece?” While Uncle Bob’s voice was smooth and even, his temper had busted through the roof. He was furious. “She did what you couldn’t, Joplin. She found your missing person. And you’re going to give her shit about it? Why? Because she did your job for you?” He stepped closer until they were toe-to-toe. “If you even talk to her like that again—”

“You’ll what?” he asked.

Man, that guy hated us. I wondered what I did.

The captain strode up then, his anger spiking a bit, too. “Joplin,” he barked.

Joplin practically jumped.

“Get over here,” he said from between clenched teeth, sounding a lot like Clint Eastwood. It was quite manly.

While Joplin received a thorough ass whipping, I wrapped an arm around Uncle Bob’s.

“You gonna tell me what really happened?” he asked.

How did he know? “I solve cases all the time. What makes you think this isn’t legit?”

“Because I figured out what she did, too.”

“Damn it.” I gazed up at him.

“Not all of it, but I had my suspicions.”

“Uncle Bob, she had a very good reason.”

He nodded. “I know, hon. I have complete faith in you.”

“Really? You’re not going to rat me out?”

“What the hell kind of uncle do you think I am? Also, Cook would divorce me.”

Laughter bubbled out of me. “You have complete faith in me? For reals?”

“Yes. Well, not your cooking. Other than that, absolutely.”

I gasped. “I’ve cooked for you, like, twice.”

“Two times too many, pumpkin. Two times too many.”

They finally released me just as Parker pulled up. He’d been in some really big meeting, but when he got there I didn’t know how he would react.

He didn’t say a thing. Just gave me a questioning thumbs-up. I nodded, and he scraped his fingers through his hair in relief. Lyle Fiske should be out of jail within the hour. I did not envy that conversation Emery was going to have with him.

I climbed into Misery and started out of the maze of empty warehouses I’d come across during another case a little over a year prior, having no idea they’d come in so handy someday. As I turned right, my headlights caught the reflection of a big black truck. I drove slowly. Another vehicle pulled up behind it, and the truck roared to life, did a U-turn, and drove off. It was Garrett, and the person taking over was Javier, one of his colleagues. It was time to get to the bottom of this.

I followed Garrett all the way to his house, my blood boiling. Not literally, ’cause that would hurt. He pulled into his drive, and I pulled in behind him.

“Charles,” he said, offering me his signature grin.

“Don’t Charles me.” I stalked up to him and poked his chest. “Why are you tailing Uncle Bob?”

“Whaaaaat?”

He turned and walked into his house with an angry woman hot on his heels. “Don’t play dumb, Swopes. Why are you tailing him?”

“It’s a job. I can’t tell you. My client has asked to be kept confidential.”

“Bullshit. If I were tailing your uncle, I’d tell you who hired me.”

“Now who’s bullshitting who?”

He was right. Damn it. Unless he was brought in on the case, I would never reveal my clients’ names.

“This is Uncle Bob we’re talking about.”

“No, you’re talking about him. I’m getting a beer.”